Glass
by shannanagin
Summary: Post Casino Night. Together they are tumbling toward the ground and he braces himself for the fall and thinks that if he doesn’t come out of it alive it won’t really matter anyway. Oneshot.


**I do not own The Office.**

**Inspired by the song "Glass" by Gavin DeGraw**

**Glass**

Together they are tumbling toward the ground and he braces himself for the fall and thinks that if he doesn't come out of it alive it won't really matter anyway.

She's looking up at him and he can't quite read what's written there but he'd like to think by the memory of her hands in his hair that he didn't misinterpret anything. And she's breathing deeply and her hands are grasping his desk so tightly that her fingernails dig into the wood and leave crescent shaped marks.

He remembers then that she pulled away and he opens his mouth to speak but she's nodding toward the break room and mouthing the word "cameras" to him and he feels his face grow red.

The moment crashes around him as he realizes they are not alone and he takes a step toward the back because the camera crew tends to be pretty reasonable and he thinks that maybe they'll erase whatever they caught on tape. But she grabs his hand and shakes her head and he tries again to read her eyes.

He fails and she's grabbing her purse and moving toward the doorway and even though he can't read her eyes he knows that she wants him to follow her. So he does. As if he doesn't have any other choice.

And he doesn't.

They stand in front of the elevator and she keeps her eyes on the down button and he keeps his eyes on her but neither of them says anything. And then the doors open and they step inside and he realizes that it's probably dangerous to be in an enclosed space with her right now.

He thinks about hitting the emergency stop button and pushing her toward the wall, crushing his lips down against hers and kissing her… kissing her until they can't breathe anymore. He thinks about her hands in his hair and on his shoulders and under his shirt and he has to close his eyes and brace his hand against the wall because the image is too much…

The elevator comes to a stop and she's stepping out and across the lobby and through the doors and it is not until she's walking across the parking lot to his car that he stops following her.

He hangs his head and stuffs his hands in his pockets because he knows he can't follow her there. Because he knows what would happen and she knows and that realization both relieves and frightens him.

She stops halfway and turns slowly. Looks at him and even from the distance he can see the tears that are slowly slipping down her cheeks. And she is so broken and he is too far away and all he wants to do is move toward her and wrap his arms around her and give her his heartbeat for a little while.

But he doesn't.

His frame is silhouetted against the glowing lobby doors and he knows that he has to tell her the truth. The truth he tried to tell her earlier but she had been smiling at him and wearing that dress and suddenly two months to the wedding wasn't enough time. And the words had come out like they're coming out right now and he's surprised again at how easy it seems.

"I'm taking that transfer to Stamford."

She's nodding and he wonders if she's even surprised. If she knew all along that he could never be a part of her life after the wedding. He thinks that she could make him stay but he won't ask. He thinks that she could come with him but he won't ask. There's too much in asking and too much has already been said this night and he finds himself walking toward her again.

They are standing in the middle of the parking lot and the faint sounds of Casino Night drift up from the warehouse and he knows that it's a bad idea but he's standing in front of her and tracing a line down her cheek with his thumb and searching her face for the answers that aren't there. And he doesn't find anything so he gives up and begins to memorize her.

And she must know this because she grabs his sweater and pushes herself up to her toes and presses her lips against his and he can almost hear the sound of glass crashing to the ground as she breaks against him. But he's wrapping his arms around her and trying to keep her whole for another moment and kissing her with a fervent desperation that fills is entire body with burning.

She's breaking into jagged little pieces under his hands and he's whispering her name like a questioning prayer and he doesn't want to leave.

But he does.

He's pulling away and thinking that it might be the last time and that maybe this is goodbye. It feels like goodbye. It feels like the end of everything in the way she's trying to hold on to him. Hold onto herself.

He thinks about who broke her and why and when and he hates himself because he thinks maybe it's his own fault. Or maybe it's Roy's. Roy, who's sitting at home, unbroken. But he imagines the words coming from her mouth that could break them all and he knows, despite what anyone thinks that no one really deserves to be broken like that. And maybe Roy's not the one that broke her and maybe she was broken all along.

So he's pulling out his keys and walking to the car and leaving her behind and trying desperately not to think about what that means.

To leave her.

So he thinks about what her bare skin might look like against his sheets and what she eats for breakfast and if they would fight over which bad reality show to watch at night. And somehow that's harder to think about.

They don't say anything because it really has all been said before and she already knows and so does he.

And when he pulls out of the parking lot he doesn't look into the rearview mirror. He doesn't see her standing there, broken, twisting a wedding ring that doesn't really mean anything anyway. And he doesn't see the way she tries to glue herself back together.

He's driving down the street and not listening to the sounds of the radio and not imagining the future. He doesn't want to be or do or see or hear anything and he thinks that maybe it would be nice to fall asleep and not wake up again until all the debris has been cleared. And all he knows is that he wants to go back and help her pick up the pieces of herself and he likes to think that she could help him find his too.

And maybe he will. And maybe she will.

And maybe one day they'll all learn to stop breaking each other and pushing each other off tall shelves.

He doesn't know what will happen and no one does but the day is almost over and he thinks that tomorrow maybe…


End file.
